


hey man, nice shot.

by bIoodbunny



Category: Silent Hill (Video Game Series)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Experimental Style, Game: Silent Hill 2, Gen, Ice, In Water Ending (Silent Hill) - Freeform, Mild Gore, Mild Language, POV Experimental, POV First Person, Psychological Horror, gross meat stuff be warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:13:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29329095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bIoodbunny/pseuds/bIoodbunny
Summary: "Now that the smoke's gone,And the air is all clearThose who were right thereGot a new kind of fear."-the feeling of meat squelching under your worn sneakers, that damn chill that never seems to leave clinging to your skin and giving every inch of your tired arms goosebumps, the thick stench of gun smoke that clogs your nostrils leaving you choking, those monsters - whatever the hell they are - laughing in your ear - you aim daddy's revolver at them, but they always run away at the last second like the cowards they are. and knowing that this town called you too.it scares you.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	hey man, nice shot.

**Author's Note:**

> lyrics in summary + title is from "hey man nice shot" by filter.
> 
> hey hi hello it's me. one of the five eddie fans lmao
> 
> i felt eddie, along with laura, sadly didn't get much screentime or development in silent hill 2. sooo i wanted to delve a bit deeper into eddie's otherworld and kinda give him a similar "realizing-why-you're-here" arc to james because i think his characters really interesting for what little we get to see of him.
> 
> for note, "He/His/Him" is meant to represent the bully eddie shot in the knee. sort of the pyramid head-esque figure to eddie like how abstract daddy is to angela. "Blondie" is james.

The feeling of meat squelching under your worn sneakers, that damn chill that never seems to leave clinging to your skin and giving every inch of your tired arms goosebumps, the thick stench of gun smoke that clogs your nostrils leaving you choking, those monsters - whatever the hell they are - laughing in your ear - you aim Daddy's revolver at them, but they always run away at the last second like the cowards they are. 

_And knowing that this town called you too._

The unfocused way those mold-green eyes looked right through you, the lingering booze and blood smell that drifted off his frayed M-65 (you liked to look in your daddy’s closet when you were younger, he always had jackets like these so you remembered their names because you thought they looked nice) told you he wasn’t as innocent as the false kind way he spoke when he’d talk about that dead wife or how much he missed her that he wanted you to believe – told you that he wasn’t here for a good reason. Neither were you. 

His _“look at me, I'm so friendly, you can trust me can’t you Eddie”_ attitude reminded you of the way those girls would come over to you laughing, voices high-pitched talking about how cute or handsome you were then turning around and giggling to their airheaded friends, _“Did you see his face?”._

_You made an effort not to smile at him anymore._

The dirty blonde curls that clung to his sweat-soaked forehead looked just like one of the football players at your old high school that would scream all kinds of insults in your face until you grew beet red with anger and embarrassment, so you imagined shoving that fake smile into the pavement and relishing at his cries and howls of pain as the river of blood poured out of his mouth as he tried to scream for that fucking wife of his – but sometimes his face would grow a little fatter, his smile far too wide and those eyes a little bit too blue and you’d clench your teeth to keep your cool and your hands from reaching for that gun. 

That was always when the wind would grow a deeper chill and you’d hug yourself with your arms to keep yourself from shivering – from looking weak. _Then the gun smoke would come back and you’d be gasping for air as that hulking mass of rotted meat and fresh meat and something else you couldn’t make out but it looked disgusting chased you down like you were prey for its slaughter (a fat pig for the slaughter, how fitting)._

You were conserving your bullets (for what reason you didn’t know) so you didn't bother trying to shoot at it. It probably wouldn’t even be phased if you did, anyway. You’d run and run until you couldn’t anymore and then you’d have to crawl your sorry ass into somewhere safe (though most of the time it was there waiting for you even then). 

The buildings in this town all looked the same. Frost and hemoglobin covered them all like plastic tarp. The girl (er, Laura was her name wasn’t it) seemed to know this place but you had no clue – you had to laugh, relying on a child like you were some kind of idiot. 

You had picked her up the night before. She walked along the highways all alone like she wasn’t afraid at all. You didn’t want someone like that James to snatch her up and do god knows what to her. 

Just thinking of it made your stomach lurch and the urge to vomit would make itself clear as your face turned blue-green. 

She’d talk of Mary (so that was her name) but you knew in the ways her eyes lit up as you drove down the far-too long, far-too foggy at this time of year road into town as she’d tell you stories of just how beautiful and kind she was, not like the possessive way Blondie would always talk about that woman – all you had to show for yourself was that the police were after you (you couldn’t remember why, then you did). 

She didn’t need to know why. She was just a little girl. 

She just giggled. “Cool. So, you’re like a, uh – renegade or whatever like those guys on TV?” 

You’d laugh, too. _As if._

You both made it to the bowling alley before he showed his ugly mug again. The pizza was good – but maybe it was just because you were really hungry. She didn’t eat much, but she seemed happy. 

“How can you just sit there and eat pizza?!” Blondie would yell at you, then something sour tasting (like rotten meat) started to fill your mouth and you spit it out. You didn’t go with him, because you were a coward and you knew it. A big fat blabbermouth with nothing to show for yourself. 

Laura never showed up again after that. You figured Blondie had something to do with it. 

You walked on forever, trying to ignore the laughter ringing in your ears again until you stumbled across the Historical Society. 

_“Go ahead and hide, Eddie – see where not facing your own problems gets you in life.”_ Daddy’s voice rang in your ears along with the laughter – you shot a bullet into the wooden door and watched the woodgrain crumble to pieces just to show him. 

_Hiding’s better than dying._

Then you wished you had just stayed outside and waited for that rotten pile of flesh and meat to finish your sorry ass off when you saw what this town had decided to make just for you inside. 

_“436 people at a recital”_ , staring at the scribbles on the dirty paper, you felt like it was mocking you. The glass chewed at your skin and the blood coated the paper like a child’s finger-painting when you smashed your hand through the pane - _“You need to calm down, dude”_ you ignored His taunts. 

The nameplate was too faded to read on the other – a painting, or maybe it was a picture of a hole – frost and hemoglobin covered every inch like the buildings. 

A picture of a man and a young boy in a blue baseball cap smiling. Their smiles looked as fake as Blondie’s did so you smashed it, too. 

Going down that hole in the wall the sirens replaced the laughing and the voices’ taunts – you tried to cover your ears but it seemed to get louder and louder just to spite you – the smell of rotted meat replaced the still-lingering scent of guns smoke as well and it made you almost miss it with how nauseating it was. 

Further, further down and the walls got tighter and tighter until you felt as though you couldn’t breathe – like you were trapped in your own solitary confinement cell. 

Then the path opened – a hole – just like the one in that weird painting. You didn't want to risk jumping down but you knew – you figured out the way this town worked by now – there was no way back. 

You closed your eyes, held your breath. You crossed your fingers that you’d just splatter on the ground below and you’d be free from this hell (or was this purgatory? Were you already dead?). 

A cafeteria, just like the one in your old high school – expect there was no one else here – but considering your school days you were happy there wasn’t. Then you realized you weren't exactly alone when you heard His growl. 

It was no longer made of meat and whatever disgusting things – it was human. It was Him – the player who you- 

You closed your eyes and fired, just once, to His knee – He howled in pain and disappeared in gun powder and blood that soaked your clothes through. You sat there for a while, catching your breath, mulling over what the hell you just did. 

_“A human being, Eddie,”_ Daddy was the last person you saw when you – _did it_. You’re pretty sure he was the one who squealed on you, too. “ _Why in the name of God would you-_ ” Whatever Daddy said became garbled in your mind, like a tape recorder stopping and skipping. 

Blondie must’ve followed your trail, or maybe he was just being laid on the same path as you were because you heard him grunt and groan in pain as he landed – you would’ve laughed at his pain if you had the energy. 

Blondie saw the blood that caked your everything and the dead body – his normally expressionless face was ghost-white with shock. He backed away from you. 

_As he ought to._

You told him you were just fooling around, as if you two were old friends – his shoulders relaxed but his color never returned. You ran again, like the guilty coward you now knew he saw you as. 

It got colder again. You thought the cold had finally given up but it came back with a vengeance. The halls all looked the same – frosted over with blood-splattered dingy wallpaper (it looked like the ones in your house but you knew that couldn’t be true). 

_“Squeal for me, piggy.”_ He taunted you – he wanted to make you angry. And it worked – you grabbed that gun and shot wildly into the darkness – all you heard was the crumble of drywall. 

As the hallways narrowed again the sounds of sirens and of His taunts and of the laughter was replaced with the blaring of that damned horn and the cheers of the fans in the bleachers. Mold-green eyes stared back at you from under a helmet. Blonde locks drooping over a stern brow. 

Was it Him or Blondie? You couldn’t be sure anymore. You thought you heard footsteps so you marched onwards. 

You reached the end of the hallway. It was cold as hell frozen over, and the handle on the door was even colder so much so you couldn’t feel anything when you grabbed it. 

He was back. He just smiled and waved at you. 

_“Long time no see, Eddie!”_ He stretched out his arms to give you a hug. You knew he was just trying to trick you, now. You heard the growls of that dog of his that wouldn’t shut up - you knew it was always kept on a chain for good reason. 

A pitiful howl. A gunshot reverberates, the recoil burning your palms, a cutoff scream. 

_“Careful with that gun, Eddie.”_ You didn’t notice Blondie until he was right behind you. He was trying to seem all sweet but you knew he was laughing at you like He always did. 

They even looked the same. 

There was hurt in his eyes as you aimed it at him – his arms were outstretched. Was he really offering you kindness? 

There was a pain in your side and you crawled away from him. He shot you, didn’t he? You crawled away on your belly like a worm as he chased you down – _like a pig to slaughter._

You aimed it again, and again but he was unfazed – if your hand would just stop shaking you could - 

_“I killed a, human being.”_ It all slipped away as James manhandled you. You tried to look him in those mold-green eyes but it kept going black. They seemed kind. His hands were as cold as the dry ice.

* * *

_A man had crashed his car into Toluca Lake just outside Rosewater Park the early morning of September 24th, 1995. It was ruled a suicide almost immediately. He had little possessions on him besides a map, a blank piece of paper, and a photo of a woman later identified as Mary Shepherd-Sunderland. His wife._

_James Sunderland. 29 years old._

_They later found the body of Mary Shepherd-Sunderland in the back seat. From the level of decomposition, she must’ve been killed mere days before._

_On September 31st, 1995, the body of 23-year-old Eddie Dombrowski was found in the basement of the Silent Hill Historical Society. Multiple gunshot wounds confirmed the cause of death._

_Strangely, his body was completely frozen over. The basement of the building was simply a storage room with no reason for such cold temperatures to be present._

_Fingerprints found on the discarded handgun at the scene were of the victim and of one James Sunderland._

_Both men’s fathers refused to comment on interviews. A young man identifying himself as a victim of one of Eddie’s signature violent outbursts before his subsequent disappearance and death had just this to say from his hospital bed,_

“He had it coming.” 

_To this day, tourists say the Silent Hill Historical Society and surrounding areas have been known to reach unnaturally low temperatures, even in the height of summer._


End file.
